


Carrier's Delight

by GemmaRose



Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Breast Fucking, Come Inflation, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Eggpreg, M/M, Masturbation, Mech Preg (Transformers), Size Difference, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, extended orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 20:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: When your volunteer transfluid donor is a fraction your size and almost entirely unmodified, steps are needed to ensure they can produce enough transfluid to keep your clutch healthy.





	Carrier's Delight

**Author's Note:**

> Megatron here is from the Michael Bay movies and is 35 feet tall (10 2/3m). Hot Rod is from G1 and is just over 13 feet tall (4m). G1 bots were _tiny_

Megatron couldn’t help it, he stared when Hot Rod practically waddled into the clearing where he’d made his camp. “I thought you said you could handle yourself.” he said pointedly as Hot Rod tossed the abdominal plating he was holding aside, moving the now-freed hand to cradle the bulge which sat low over his pelvic plating. And- was his modesty panel dented? What in the name of the Unmaker had _happened_ on his way back from the lake?

“I can.” Hot Rod protested, though it lacked punch when his vocaliser was nearly half static and his fans were roaring. Megatron swore he could see the bulge under Hot Rod’s derma growing, forcing the comically small speedster’s gait even heavier to accommodate. “Just, didn’t read all the instructions on Ratch’s medicine.”

Megatron sighed heavily and glanced at the shack he’d cobbled together to keep his extant sparklings contained. They were still recharging, it seemed, which was good. One crisis at a time. “What do you need to do?” he asked, and Hot Rod’s modesty panel literally flew off as soon as he had the top two latches undone, burying itself in the ground at Megatron’s pedes. His spike shot out faster than Megatron had ever seen, unnaturally swollen and dripping thick silver transfluid from the tip, and Megatron’s valve clenched.

“I said I’d help provide for your clutch, right?” Hot Rod managed a weak smile, and Megatron shot one last glance at the sparklings’ nest before striding over to where Hot Rod stood and lowering himself to the ground. He had to sit in order for Hot Rod to be able to get a comfortable angle for both of them, and as soon as the mech’s spike was in him part of Megatron’s carrier coding relaxed. Hot Rod was small for a sire, but he was cheerful and brightly coloured and his spike, while hilariously oversized for his frame, felt pretty damn good in Megatron’s valve. Hot Rod shuddered, grasping at some of the armour around Megatron’s hips, and his overload startled them both if the choked sound Hot Rod made was anything to go by.

Hot Rod’s hips jerked against his once, twice, and then Megatron had to catch the mech to stop him from collapsing as he continued to overload. Megatron’s frame greedily sucked up the flood of transfluid, calipers in his valve rippling to encourage the thick, mineral-rich fluid up into the tank where his clutch were gestating, and Megatron purred as his charge began to properly build. It wasn’t rising very fast though, and Hot Rod hung all but insensate in his hold, his overload dragging on far longer than even a mech of Megatron’s size should’ve been able to sustain. The bulge just over his hips had gotten smaller, but only just slightly, and when Megatron pressed on it experimentally Hot Rod let out a sharp cry and a nearly _pressurised_ gush of transfluid into Megatron’s valve.

“Silly little speedster.” he purred, shifting how he laid so that his hips were canted up, and Hot Rod hung suspended in his hold. “What ever am I to do with you?” he rolled his wrist, and his engine purred at the slide of Hot Rod’s still-swollen spike against his valve’s internal nodes. “A carrier needs more than just transfluid, after all.” he rolled his wrist again, this time sinking Hot Rod’s spike in at a slight angle, washing transfluid over a new set of nodes and lighting them up with the charge it carried.

Hot Rod moaned, field flaring eagerly, and Megatron increased his pace, fragging himself with Hot Rod’s spike faster than the mech himself could manage most days. “Perhaps you should misread your medicine again.” Megatron panted, letting his helm fall back against the forest floor as his gestation tank slowly began to properly fill, transfluid seeping into the spaces between his eggs. “Just let me- frag myself- with your spike.” he caught the tip of said spike on a particularly hot cluster of nodes, and his optic shutters slid shut as he moaned. Hot Rod didn’t reply, no doubt drowning in the unending surge of charge from his extended overload, but that was alright.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teased, pressing Hot Rod’s hips tight against his own and rubbing his thumb firmly over the swell of his obscenely overfull transfluid tanks. The ecstasy which crashed through Hot Rod’s field was more than answer enough, and Megatron pressed his helm back against the ground with a moan as a squeeze of Hot Rod’s abdomen pressurised the flow of transfluid which was now rapidly filling his tank. Primus, how much could even fit in such a small frame? He pressed harder with his thumb, drawing a high wail from Hot Rod which devolved into binary as Megatron’s gestation tank began to pressurise. Frag, that was fast. He’d not even gotten to overload yet.

His carrier coding protested as he pulled Hot Rod away, the stream of transfluid painting his valve rim and the insides of his thighs instead of being pumped into his tank to strengthen the clutch growing there, but any further pressure might damage the still-frail shells. Hot Rod squirmed in his hold, hands flying to wrap around his oversized spike, and Megatron considered the sight for a moment. His valve was out of the question for the moment, and Hot Rod was far too small for his spike. Their cables weren’t of compatible sizes either, which was a shame because for once the little speedster might actually be generating enough charge to get Megatron revved up over a hardline connection.

“Please.” Hot Rod moaned, jerking himself off frantically. “Please, please Megs, I need-”

“Alright.” Megatron adjusted himself on the ground, glancing warily once more at where his already hatched sparklings were recharging in their nest. He sighed as he partially retracted the armour which covered his chest, exposing his aching nozzles to the warm air while still keeping his breasts pressed together. They’d grown sensitive as of late, a nudge from his carrier coding meant to encourage him to have the sire of his sparklings ensure sparkling-grade filtration was progressing properly. Luckily, the sensitivity was pleasant rather than painful. He shifted his hold to press a finger to the tip of Hot Rod’s spike, stemming the flow to a dribble as he moved the speedster up to straddle his chest, legs spread wide and pedes braced on the lower edges of his pauldrons.

Hot Rod moaned loudly as Megatron released him, and immediately began pounding his spike into the tight space between Megatron’s breasts, his own transfluid easing the way. The sensation was strange, but not at all unpleasant. “Feel so good.” he panted, and Megatron arched as Hot Rod grabbed his nozzles, squeezing just hard enough to send charge skittering along the edges of his armour plates. “So fraggin good. Gonna- gonna-” he moaned loudly, squeezing Megatron’s nozzles again as his hips snapped forward harder, chasing an overload stronger than the one he’d been drowning in for kliks already.

“Harder.” Megatron growled, hands moving to grope the underside of his breasts, a low moan pulling from his vocaliser as Hot Rod squeezed and tugged on his nozzles. The charge was there, the _need_ was there, he just needed- Megatron moaned and reached down between his legs, rubbing firmly at his anterior node. The surge of charge from that finally tipped him over the edge, blue sparks crackling over his armour and grounding into Hot Rod, pushing him into a final climax as well, one which drenched Megatron in transfluid from the chest down.

“Primus.” he gasped, limbs falling lax to the ground as Hot Rod slid sideways, collapsing in a strutless heap next to him.

“Not- doing that- again.” Hot Rod groaned, and Megatron chuckled.

“Perhaps for the best.” he lifted a hand to stroke over the swell of his gestation tank, fingers tracing the edges of his armour. Getting all the transfluid out of his seams would be pit later, he was sure. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy having you as a fragtoy, though.” he grinned, and Hot Rod muffled a groan in his side. Perhaps he could convince his little speedster to do that part again, at least. He’d seemed to enjoy it plenty, and being properly lucid could only make it more enjoyable.


End file.
